


From Russia with Brainwashing

by DreamingPagan



Category: James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alec Trevelyan as a victim of the Winter Soldier program, Angst, Canon Compliant, Crossover, Gen, Old Draft that I've cleaned up to post, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 13:37:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20136322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamingPagan/pseuds/DreamingPagan
Summary: In the process of looking for Bucky, Steve and Sam come across some old photos of an MI6 officer. As it turns out, 007 isn't just a character from a movie.





	From Russia with Brainwashing

They had started in Russia. 

It was the logical place. Out of all the backwater nowheres that Bucky had been held in, out of all of the countries they’d dragged his frozen, unconscious body to, so many of them had been in Russia. They’d searched them all - every last godforsaken one of them.

It had yielded information - too much information, and no results, and Steve was so, so tired of being cold. 

“Let’s try somewhere warmer,” Sam had suggested. “If I were Barnes, I’d be headed for some sunshine. Somewhere nice, with those little umbrella drinks -”

“He’s got a metal arm, he’s not exactly going to be tanning on a beach somewhere,” Steve had pointed out, and Sam had given him a look, and Steve had winced, because - 

Because the knowledge of what was in those files was still burning a hole in his heart and his temper was shot all to hell and it wasn’t Sam’s fault that Bucky was still out there, still in pain.

“Let’s try Spain,” Steve had said, and here they were - in Spain. On a beach.

Meeting with _ James Bond _ and who the hell knew that any of that movie shit had been real? Not Steve - not before today, not before he’d laid eyes on the black hair shading to grey and the prominent brow-line of the man who had, until perhaps ten years ago, been 007. The real one. 

He wondered if Bond had known Peggy or vice versa. Probably not, he decided, watching the man pore over the photos Steve had just handed him. The man Peggy had described had been older - more Scottish.

“You said these all came from Russia?” 

“All but one,” Steve answered. “I was hoping you’d recognize some of the sites and give me some names.” 

Bond frowned. 

“The Russian sites are all dead,” he answered. “As are the men who ran them. Show me the other.” 

Steve nodded. He handed over his phone, and tapped the file Bond had asked for.

“This came from a place in the Ukraine,” he said. “The picture quality is shit - Chernobyl did a number on the original photo.” 

Bond nodded, and bent toward the phone screen. He touched the photo gently, as if doing so even on the screen might degrade the image, and then tapped more insistently. He stared.

There was a man in the photos, but he was not Bucky. Steve frowned, trying to make out the man’s face.

“Looks like they had more than one test subject,” he said. “Take a look.” 

“He looks familiar,” Bond murmured. He frowned, touching another file. 

“They made notes,” Steve said. “Here’s the on-site report.” He tapped the phone again, and brought up another file. It loaded, and he skimmed it. “It says that this one was one of yours. Recognize the name?” He turned to Bond, and was surprised to see the other man’s face gone white as a sheet.

Bond shook his head as if by doing so he could make the information on the screen disappear. “No,” he muttered. “It can’t be. It’s not - “ He backed away from the screen, stumbling, and made a strange, quickly stifled noise. He swallowed hard as if he were trying not to be sick, and then shook his head, disbelief and horror written in his widened eyes. 

“_Alec_.” The name sounded torn from his lips, and Steve couldn’t help but sympathize

“Who was he?” 

Bond did not answer, still staring, his eyes flicking between the images displayed below the main text of the report.

“Agent Bond?”

“He was - ” Bond swallowed again, and then lowered his head, staring at the ground as if it could provide answers. 

“Alec was - a friend. He - God. I thought he had betrayed me - betrayed England, switched sides and gone over to the Russians in ‘85. He resurfaced in ‘95. He wiped out a nuclear satellite monitoring facility and nearly took out the Bank of England before I - I killed him.“ 

He touched a shaking hand to the screen, and the images suddenly covered the opposite wall, projected in full, horrifying detail. Alec, strapped into the chair. Alec screaming. Alec bloodied and frightened and ragged and then blank, suddenly clean again, his face half-healed, his eyes staring past the camera, waiting for orders. The notation - Asset 2, Janus, 1987, and a full mission brief, signed by a Colonel Ourumov, handler. 

“How did I miss it?” Bond murmured.

“I’m sorry,” Steve offered. The words felt inadequate to the horror and the sudden grief on Bond’s face. 

“Not as sorry as I am,” Bond answered, blue eyes suddenly fixed on the photo of Colonel Ouromov. “I should have seen. I should have at least asked a few damned questions before I just assumed that I knew bloody everything there was to know. They tampered with his mind, and I didn’t even _ notice_.” He slammed a hand against the desk, and the images shuddered. Bond turned away.

“Shut it down.” Steve closed the file and saved it along with all the others.


End file.
